


Growth Spurt

by Stariceling



Category: Meitantei Conan | Detective Conan | Case Closed
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, DC_Yaoi Kink Meme, Handcuffs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-22
Updated: 2011-08-22
Packaged: 2017-12-06 04:35:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/731489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stariceling/pseuds/Stariceling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Conan has grown up enough to be a teen detective once again. Now he has to make it clear to an older Heiji that he is not a kid and that their desires are the same.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Growth Spurt

**Author's Note:**

> There's a whole plot behind this universe, but I doubt it'll ever get written. In this fic Conan is physically 16 and Heiji is 26.
> 
> Original prompt: Teen Conan wanting to prove to Heiji that just because he decided to 'grow up again' doesn't mean he's a child.

Conan had finally reached the age where he became a ‘highschool detective’ for the second time. He was a few weeks into his first year of highschool, just a couple years shy of where he had been when he was forced to take the drug that turned him into a child. He was gaining the strength he needed to capture suspects without help (not that Dr. Agasa’s inventions didn’t still come in handy), and as his height shot up and his voice deepened he could feel himself approaching that magical threshold where people would finally take him seriously. Well, more than when he was a child, anyway. He was still working on that.

“Don’t you think, Conan?”

“Huh?” Conan had been trailing behind his friends, lost in his own thoughts.

“I was saying, if we want to have a detective club at school we need way to audition new members, right?”

“Ah. . . sure,” he agreed, and the conversation carried on with his minimal input. They were all used to him occasionally spacing out by now.

If he really thought about it, the truth was they were completely used to him as Conan. He’d never let the Detective Boys know about his original identity, apart from Haibara.

There weren’t many people left who still called him by his real name. His parents, of course, and Dr. Agasa, because he had never really been anyone else to them. Megure-keibu, who had taken on the burden of announcing a certain teen detective’s ‘death’ after the last days of the Black Organization, still used his name as a deliberate warning when he was behaving recklessly. Takagi had, once or twice, slipped up and followed that example (and obviously he had suspected something for a long time, but he would never say so directly without proof).

Even Ran usually called him ‘Conan’ now. Even after it was finally safe, when he had finally been able to tell her, he’d found that things couldn’t stay the same forever. The only other person was. . . .

“Yo, Kudo! I’ve been waitin’ for ya!”

Once again Conan was broken out of his thoughts, this time looking up to find the very person he had been thinking about waiting at the gate to his house. Hattori Heiji had grown into an adult while he was still getting back to being a teenager. The age difference disappeared when it was just the two of them talking on the phone, but seeing Heiji in person reminded him once again. Even with casual clothes and his usual playful grin, there was no replacing the powerful adult Heiji had become with the lanky teen he had been eight years ago.

“It’s not ‘Kudo,’ it’s ‘Conan!’”

“Can’t you ever remember?”

“Sorry, my bad,” Heiji laughed. “Hey, didn’t you guys run into another smuggling case last week?” he suggested, knowing they would be all too eager to talk about that and forget about scolding him for getting their friend’s name wrong once again.

Ayumi and Genta happily took the bait while Haibara watched in her usual aloof way, obviously one of them but not quite participating, but Mitsuhiko put a hand on Conan’s arm to stop him joining in. Cupping one hand around his mouth, he whispered, “Conan-kun, doesn’t it bother you?”

“What?”

“He always addresses you like that. It’s not even a joke anymore. It’s more like he’s trying to make you a replacement or something.” Mitsuhiko was sharp, but he still sometimes missed the mark completely and just kept going with one of his wild theories. “But Shinichi-san is already. . .” He trailed off, looking troubled.

Kudo Shinichi was dead. In the minds of the public, in all official records, in whatever fragmented files a certain Black Organization might have left behind, and sometimes (he thought, he suspected, he knew) in the eyes of his childhood friend, Ran.

“It’s fine.” He had come to terms with it himself, but he never wanted Heiji to stop seeing him as ‘Kudo Shinichi.’ “I like it,” he added, confounding his friend.

What he didn’t like was Heiji playfully ruffling his hair and teasing him about his height, still treating him like a little kid. He should be used to it by now, but it irritated him. He swatted the hand away while waving goodbye to his friends, only to end up with Heiji’s arm slung around his shoulders in the next minute.

Heiji had always touched him freely. Now that he was too big to be picked up and tucked under one arm it was always Heiji leaning on him to read over his shoulder, putting a companionable arm around him, and just finding a thousand stupid excuses to touch. It drove him crazy, and not always in the sense that Heiji got on his nerves. He wanted those touches so much it felt like Heiji was teasing him, and puberty had only increased that want to a fever pitch.

“Why are you here so early, anyway?” Conan muttered, concentrating on not betraying how enjoyable and frustrating the feeling of Heiji’s solid body against his side was.

“I finished up the case I was on and grabbed an earlier train over here. I couldn’t wait to see ya.”

A playful wink accompanied the statement. Conan cursed himself because he should have been completely used to Heiji’s attitude and he still fumbled with his house keys and slammed the door open hard enough that Heiji would have to notice his agitation.

“Speakin’ of which, it’s been a long time since I’ve seen ya in somethin’ like this. New uniform?”

“No, I’ve been through highschool before, remember? I’m just using my uniform from the first time,” Conan answered. He toed off his shoes and stepped up into the house with Heiji following close behind him.

He didn’t miss Heiji’s eyes roving over him, no doubt noting the places where he didn’t quite fill out the shoulders of his blazer and the way his slacks were rolled up. He had been far too stubborn to buy a new uniform because this one was _his_ so he was going to grow into it and damn what anybody else said.

“It looks good on ya,” was all Heiji said, but Conan bristled at the comment and was about to snap back when Heiji reached up and tugged on his tie to loosen it.

Why was it so impossible to come up with a sharp retort when he had Heiji’s fingers deftly unfastening his top button? Over the years it had become harder and harder to convert the heat roiling in the pit of his stomach every time Heiji touched him into anything resembling anger.

Heiji was always touching him, but now it felt different. It didn’t feel like an accident when Heiji’s hands brushed his face while reaching up to slip his glasses off. Heiji’s voice had dropped to a low purr that would have made even the most benign comment sound like a come-on.

“You’re still way too straight-laced,” Heiji teased, “but still, I’m glad to see ya lookin’ so good.”

“Hattori?” The thought that he really wanted Heiji to keep messing with his clothes was making his cheeks heat.

“Hey, did’ja get these upgraded again? What’s this button do?”

All the nights when he’d had to take care of himself after getting off the phone with Heiji, all the times when Heiji had teased him until he thought he was going to lose it and then backed off, and it was the sudden interest in his glasses of all things that made Conan finally snap.

He didn’t even know what he was going to do until he already had his lips crushed against Heiji’s. He’d braced both hands on Heiji’s shoulders, trying to overcome the last few centimeters of height Heiji still had over him as he kissed his friend for all he was worth.

For the moment all he cared about was Heiji’s mouth opening against his. Heiji was kissing him back, hands coming up to grab his arms in a rock-hard grip.

Then Heiji’s hands moved up to cup his face and pushed him back so that their mouths separated with a disappointing pop.

“Whaddya think yer doing!? Cut it out!”

Conan was frozen for a split second before the confusion and desire and hurt all molded together into anger.

“What do you mean, ‘what am I doing?’ You’re the one who’s always pawing at me!”

“Since when do I ‘paw’ ya?” Heiji’s face was bright red, and it was impossible to tell if he was more panicked or pissed off. “Dammit, Kudo, yer just a kid!”

“I am not a kid and you know it!” Oh great, that’s a perfect way to show you’re mature, Conan chided himself. He was too angry for logic.

“If you’re stuck in that body for good, that means right now you’re still a kid!” Heiji rubbed one hand over his face. The defeated, shameful look he was wearing was more discouraging than if he’d kept yelling. “How can I want ya to do anythin’ like that when you’re a kid?”

Conan was seething with frustration, unable to even find words. Here he’d thought Heiji was one person he could trust never to treat him this way, not when it mattered.

Heiji retrieved the glasses he’d dropped and moved to put them back on Conan’s face. For an instant Conan got a faint whiff of cologne from Heiji’s wrist before his hand quickly withdrew. He’d apparently thought better of the gesture because he folded the glasses instead and simply held them out.

This was doing nothing good for Conan’s temper. How dare Heiji manage to sound like the mature one. How dare he act like he was holding out a peace offering. How dare he smell good.

“Want me to leave?”

“Don’t you dare run away.”

That embarrassed laugh when he was caught at something was a trait Heiji had never lost. He tucked the glasses into Conan’s blazer pocket and quickly took his hand away.

“The guest room’s open, right? I can at least give ya some space to think.”

When Conan didn’t answer Heiji picked up his bag and retreated, escaping into the familiar maze of the large house. Conan was left alone with his own deep-rooted frustrations.

He’d been so sure there was something behind Heiji’s apparent flirtations. No, he was still sure. Heiji was terrible at hiding guilt behind that honest face of his. Conan knew perfectly well it wasn’t that his temper needed time to cool, but that Heiji had wanted to escape.

But why? Heiji might have teased him about being stuck as a child, but he’d never given the impression of actually believing Conan was childish. When Haibara had decided to give up on a cure because of the dangerous strain it put on his body, Heiji had agreed with her. When Conan finally let go and allowed Shinichi Kudo to ‘die,’ Heiji had supported him.

More than supported him. Conan had physically been about ten at the time, and had liked being coddled even less than the first time he’d been that age, but Heiji had ignored all of his protests and gathered him up in a forceful hug, telling him, ‘I’m on your side. I’ll always be on your side.’

Hadn’t he said something else important? Conan had been distracted by so many other things that day he hadn’t really listened, but that moment was permanently etched into his mind. Right then, with that warm hand cradling the back of his head, that was the moment he’d realized he’d fallen for Heiji. He didn’t know how he would have dealt with the epiphany if Heiji hadn’t already been hugging him fit to squeeze all the misery and panic out of him. As it was there had just been himself, and his new knowledge, and Heiji. No room for anything else.

Heiji had been saying something about how it would be difficult growing up a second time, but he would have support, he would be caught up again before he knew it, everything would be okay. Then there had been a hot breath against his forehead and a promise, ‘I’ll wait for you.’

How could he have been so stupid?

‘You’re still just a kid,’ and ‘I’ll wait for you.’ The answer was already laid out right there for him to read. He just had to make Heiji see the truth, since the other detective had been an even bigger idiot than him.

At least Heiji had actually gone and settled himself in the guest room rather than doing something like trying to sneak out the window (he still had a distressing habit of acting before thinking when suitably panicked). Conan found he had dumped his bag on the floor, tossed his jacket on the back of a chair, and flung himself down on the bed to stare at the wall.

Just a moment to take in the tense set of Heiji’s shoulders, the way he held himself, obviously aware he wasn’t alone but reluctant to turn around. Conan approached slowly, until his eye was caught by a little piece of evidence that suggested Heiji hadn’t settled in as heedlessly as he’d first assumed.

Heiji had taken his logbook and handcuffs out of his jacket and left them lying neatly on the desk. Conan wasn’t surprised to see them. Heiji took his position as a police detective far more seriously than anyone who didn’t know him could have guessed (especially with his alternating brilliance and impulsiveness making it difficult for his superiors to know if he should be promoted or reprimanded), and considering how often they ran into cases when they were together it would be more surprising for him not to have them.

Conan picked up the handcuffs and stepped up behind Heiji, who was apparently trying to ignore him. It wasn’t until he perched on the edge of the bed that Heiji finally rolled over to look at him.

Blindingly quick, Conan darted forward and snapped the handcuffs on Heiji, securing one of his hands to the wooden slats of the headboard. He fell back to sit sideways on the bed, admiring his handiwork.

“Kudo! What’re ya-”

“I’m not going to let you run away before I’m done talking to you.”

Heiji stretched out to grab at his jacket, which apparently had the key, but it was well out of his reach.

“For now, I’ll ignore the circumstantial evidence, like the times when you stare at my ass like you think you’re going to find a clue there,” Conan continued, ignoring Heiji trying to work himself free. “Just answer me one thing: When I kissed you before, why did you hesitate to push me off?”

“I don’t know what yer talkin’ about!” Heiji had pushed himself into a sitting position, and was stubbornly looking at anything other than Conan, his face blooming red once again.

“You had me by the arms, but you didn’t push me away while you had that leverage. If you were that angry, why did you deliberately take the time to break it off the way you did?”

“Idiot. That’s just because I didn’t wanna be rough with my best friend.” Heiji was a terrible liar, casting about for an excuse while his nervous body language and guilty voice provided the real answer.

“Hattori,” Conan let a warning note creep into his voice.

“Besides, maybe I was just too shocked when ya. . .” Heiji finally looked him in the face and trailed off. The sheepish smile that came out when he accepted he was caught was almost worth all the trouble he’d been. “Am I that obvious?”

“Completely obvious.”

Heiji ran one hand over his face with a groan, only to be interrupted by Conan leaning forward and wrapping arms around him, practically climbing into his lap.

“But I never noticed. I was too busy trying to hide the same thing from you.”

Heiji’s forehead hit his shoulder, free hand coming up to wrap around his back.

“I had to let ya grow up first before I said anything. You understand that?” Heiji moved, shifting as if to kiss Conan’s cheek and resisting the impulse at the last second. “Even if by then you’d patched things up with your girl, or found someone new, and you’d never know.”

“Oh, so you deliberately sabotaged yourself? Stupid jerk.”

“‘S the only way I could keep my hands off.” Heiji gave him a squeeze before letting go again, matching actions to words. “Ya understand that, right?”

“You understand that I’m not a child, right?”

Silence, and Conan could feel his temper starting to heat up once again. Things were finally going well, and now Heiji was trying to back off again? He sat back, the better to eye Heiji angrily.

“And how long were you going to wait?”

“Um. . . ‘til ya turned twenty.” Stupid, honest Heiji.

“I am not waiting five more years!”

“No one’s asking ya too, idiot! Go find someone your own age!”

“You are my age!”

“I know that, but your body’s still-”

“I don’t have a child’s body anymore, either! Don’t tell me you didn’t notice!”

Heiji swallowed, obviously nervous and embarrassed, but didn’t try to argue otherwise.

“Fine, then. Why don’t you tell me exactly what part you find too childish for you.”

Without waiting for an answer, Conan shrugged off his blazer, letting it fall onto the bed behind him and slide to the floor. He reached up to tug on the tie Heiji had loosened earlier, undoing the knot completely.

“Kudo!” Heiji’s protest lost most of its bite when he was obviously distracted by Conan sliding off the tie. Conan reached up and undid one shirt button, and Heiji’s eyes were immediately riveted there.

If Heiji found it that interesting, it only seemed right to give him more time to watch. Conan moved his hands slowly down the line of buttons, aware of Heiji’s eyes following the trail of exposed skin. Heiji’s trapped hand was grabbing at the headboard in a white-knuckled grip. He kept swallowing and taking in little nervous pants of breath, the sounds loud in the otherwise silent room.

Conan finally pulled his button-down shirt open. With Heiji’s obvious interest making him feel bold, he ran one hand from his abdomen up to his collarbone and slowly back down, watching Heiji’s eyes track the movements.

Letting his hand dip a little lower on his return journey until it was poised at his belt buckle, Conan didn’t miss the quick flash of pink as Heiji licked his lips. He had a moment of worry about how a very specific part of his anatomy would measure up, but judging by the way Heiji was looking at him when unfastened and crawled out of his slacks and underwear, he had nothing to worry about.

Conan pulled off socks and slacks in a few quick movements before settling, naked, across Heiji’s thighs.

“Well? See anything you don’t like?”

“You’re makin’ this really hard for me.”

“I can see that,” Conan replied, eyeing the growing bulge in Heiji’s jeans. He grinned in triumph and moved to straddle Heiji’s lap, quickly rewarded with a startled hiss as Heiji’s hips bucked up to meet him.

“Nngh. . . ah,” Heiji groaned in response to Conan wriggling happily on his lap. “Dammit, Kudo!” Heiji’s free hand, clasped in a hard fist at his side through the whole strip show, suddenly found Conan’s knee and began to grope its way up his thigh.

“Still want me to leave you to wait?”

Conan expected Heiji’s might snap at him. What he didn’t expect was for Heiji to flat-out snap. The next thing he knew he had been flung down on his back across the bed and Heiji was kneeling over him, snarling out an indistinct curse while he struggled with the cuffs still chaining his arm to the headboard.

“Hattori?” Conan queried, pushing himself up on his elbows.

Heiji abandoned his little struggle and pounced, practically knocking the breath out of Conan with a hard kiss. Conan landed on his back again, but he didn’t care. His hands were soon far too busy getting under Heiji’s shirt to bother supporting himself, anyway. Heiji still applied himself seriously to kendo, and the results showed in the lean, powerful body on top of him.

Conan reached down to unbutton Heiji’s fly and with a one-handed assist managed to get those jeans out of the way. Heiji was still squirming around trying to kick them off while Conan stroked his newly-freed member, trying to measure it with both hands. Maybe it was just because it was rock-hard and rubbing against his palm, but it felt bigger than his. Stupid Heiji, having to be taller than him and even bigger here, too? Conan was determined to somehow push his body into a growth spurt to even up the odds.

“Mm, Kudo,” Heiji moaned against his mouth, so close that Conan felt his lips move when he spoke. “Kudo. . .” A whisper and a hot kiss planted lower now, on his jaw. “Kudo. . .” Lower still, not just a kiss this time but a hungry mouth sucking at his throat.

A breath, a pause, and then Heiji’s head lifted enough to look him in the eye once again.

“Ya know what you’re gettin’ into here, right? Ya know what I want to. . . to do to ya? Right now?”

Even with eyes practically glazed over with lust, the look on Heiji’s face was maddeningly sincere. He had to be the most adorably oblivious idiot in the entire world, and Conan wondered just how hard he was supposed to seduce Heiji before the dark-skinned detective didn’t assume everything was his own fault.

“No, I’m so little and innocent I have no idea what sex is,” Conan shot back sarcastically. “That’s why I stripped naked and tried to ride your-”

“I’m bein’ serious here! I want to be inside’a ya.” Heiji’s hand was gripping his backside hard enough to lift him off of the bed, and the push and slide when their hips came together melted the sharp edge right off of Conan’s tongue. “Nngh. . . Dammit, I can’t. . .”

“Don’t you _dare_ start that again.”

“No, I really can’t. Not like this. Not without hurtin’ ya.”

Heiji was searching about for something, yanking on the handcuffs again. He looked down at Conan, still sprawled happily under him and in no mood to get up and fetch the key, and bent down once again.

He moved as far down Conan’s body as the chain would allow, which was just enough to swipe his tongue across Conan’s bellybutton. A frustrated growl and a sharp nip followed, making Conan arch and yelp.

“Move up,” Heiji demanded.

“Huh?”

“Move! Get up there so I can suck ya!”

If that wasn’t an incentive, he didn’t know what was. Conan pushed himself up towards the headboard, helped along by Heiji’s hand on his backside. The moment he was in position Heiji’s head bobbed down and he found himself engulfed by the hot, wet cavern of Heiji’s mouth.

With Heiji sucking greedily on him he thought it would be over all too soon. Just as he felt he was about to reach the edge the paradise of that hot mouth suddenly deserted him. A firm hand on his hip kept him from thrusting up, seeking the friction he desperately wanted, and Conan was left writing in frustration.

“Just let me savor it a little more,” Heiji whispered, his breath blowing over Conan’s cock with a maddening sensation that only made him squirm harder.

He tried to fist his hands in Heiji’s hair, but it was too short to get a good grip and Heiji wasn’t budging.

Then Heiji’s tongue was on him, licking him slowly from tip to base, base to tip. A delicate flick against his slit and Conan was biting his tongue to keep from crying out. The feeling of Heiji taking in just the head and delicately sucking it milked needy whines from his throat.

He almost didn’t notice when Heiji’s hand left him. All he could seem to focus on was the pleasurable teasing of lips and tongue. But then, there was something that got his attention. A change in posture, a hitch in Heiji’s breath, and when he managed to force his eyes open and look down at his partner he realized Heiji was touching himself.

All Conan had wanted a moment ago was Heiji’s mouth, but suddenly he found himself feeling even more greedy. Heiji had said it before, ‘I want to be inside you.’

“Wait a second.”

Conan had to shove Heiji’s head out of the way before he could turn over, getting on hands and knees so he could reach the night stand and rummage in one of the lower drawers. Here were the random things his mom had decided to stock the guest room with: mints, stationary, pens and countless things he didn’t care about. His digging hand found tissues, and then hidden in the very back. . . .

He’d tried to ignore Heiji’s mouth marking a wet claim up and down his thigh while he searched, but when Heiji reared up and bit him on one cheek he jerked in surprise, yanking out the drawer and knocking over the entire night stand. It didn’t matter. He had what he wanted, even if it came with a nice set of tooth marks in a particularly private place.

“You couldn’t even wait for me to get it out?” Conan indicated the tube of lubricant he’d dug up, just as Heiji noticed and reached for it.

Too late Conan realized there was a visible dent in the tube. Not much, but enough to show it had been used. He didn’t dare turn around and face Heiji, too mortified as he felt Heiji scrutinizing the bit of evidence, and then him.

He found himself dragged back and positioned under Heiji’s body. Heiji didn’t say anything.

When he popped the cap open it was obvious Heiji was not calm. He couldn’t even seem to get the lube into his hand without getting it on the sheets. After a moment he dropped the tube and wrapped his arm around Conan’s chest instead, pulling their bodies together.

Everything was too close and hot for Conan’s brain to work with its usual sharpness. Heiji’s erection was rubbing against him, fit to drive him crazy with the teasing. Hand groping up and down his front, mouth latched greedily on his neck. . . Heiji was sucking much too hard, too high. That was going to show over his shirt collar if Heiji didn’t stop.

Conan had to twist to get Heiji’s mouth off of him, glaring up at his partner with one hand slapped over Heiji’s mouth to prevent him latching on again.

“No hickeys!” he insisted, before getting a good look at Heiji’s face.

Jealousy and lust were written clear as day in Heiji’s expression. He might have summoned up the self-control not to say anything, but Conan guessed he was going to end up with love marks all over his body if he didn’t correct the assumptions Heiji was making. He almost didn’t want to correct it. How Heiji managed to be so endearing when he was being such an idiot. . . not to mention his tongue sliding between Conan’s fingers as that shielding hand became his new target.

“I was just-” Conan gasped at the delicate pinch of teeth on the fleshy part of his palm. Not enough to hurt, just enough to interrupt. “You idiot! I was thinking about you when I used it!”

Heiji’s eyes widened, and Conan couldn’t look him in the face. Falling back to elbows and knees, he hid his face between his hands as he pushed back and up against Heiji, all but begging.

“Oh, Kudo,” Heiji groaned. “What’d I ever do to deserve ya?” He must have figured out how to get at the lube one-handed, because at that moment there was one very slick finger pressing into Conan. “Right here?”

“Nngh!”

Conan refused to say any more, too embarrassed to speak. He’d done it on this very bed, because this was where Heiji always slept when he stayed over. He’d used his fingers, trying to discover how it would feel if Heiji ever did this to him. He didn’t even want to know how much that brilliant idiot would figure out just from his admission.

Heiji was up to two fingers now, stroking in and out as he dropped whispers and reverent kisses across Conan’s shoulders and neck. This was completely different from doing it to himself. Heiji’s fingers spread inside of him, stretching, crooking as if to stroke every part of him, and-

“Ah!” He hadn’t found that spot by himself before. Heiji had just brushed something that sent a shock of pleasure through his already straining cock.

He could practically feel Heiji grinning behind him as that electric bundle of nerves was teased again and again. He didn’t care. He just wanted more, trying to clench down on Heiji’s fingers and keep them there when they finally withdrew.

Heiji was fiddling with the bottle of lube again, trying to rip open the little complimentary condom package attached to the side. Conan wanted to whine in misery, brain momentarily too fried to even piece together what Heiji wanted it for. All he knew was that Heiji’s fingers weren’t playing with him anymore and he wanted them back.

Then he felt something else brushing against his entrance, poised to take their place.

“Still want this?”

Oh yes. He wanted anything Heiji would give him so long as he got it now. “Yes, now!” were the only words that managed to get through, but they were exactly what he needed.

A slow push, stretching muscles as Conan struggled to relax, to keep breathing. All he could think about was wanting more. Just the head pushed inside at first, and Conan thought he might lose his mind. Then there was Heiji’s hand on his stomach, so solid and firm as he gasped for breath against it, supporting him and holding him in place for the rest of that first thrust in.

It was bigger than Heiji’s fingers, somehow so much more huge and hot than when he’d explored it with his hands, now that it was inside. Even once he was all the way in, Heiji kept rocking against him. Those tiny, irrepressible thrusts were just enough to make him need more, just enough to let him know that the self control Heiji had scraped together was nearly gone.

“Move,” Conan hissed.

Heiji didn’t just move. He had to hold Conan in place for those first few wild thrusts before he found a rhythm to inspire cries of pleasure from both of them. Soon enough he was pounding Conan fit to nail him to the bed. His hand grabbed for Conan’s cock, fingers and palm slick with extra lube, and made a tight tunnel to push him into with each thrust.

Conan jerked helplessly between Heiji’s cock and his hand, deaf to his own voice even as he heard Heiji growling the most obscene sweet nothings against his back. Heiji kept hitting that place inside of him that made it impossible to think, kept trying to wring every bit of pleasure out of him with demanding pumps of his hand. Either one would have been enough to make Conan hit his limit.

There were sparks. Heiji shoved him bodily into that wall of pleasure he had been chasing, and nothing else mattered. There were sparks in his eyes and on his tongue and the impossible rush of pleasure and release.

Conan slumped against the sheets, flattened under Heiji’s boneless weight. It was as if he had poured everything out, leaving his muscles twitching with little spasms of lingering pleasure. Conan felt like he could just stay like this forever.

Maybe not forever. His throat was sore enough to sting when he breathed, and Heiji was hot and heavy across his back.

“Get off,” Conan mumbled, too drained to put any real command in his voice.

Heiji tried to roll off of him, got caught by the handcuffs once again, and had to adjust himself and move the other way. He finally fell onto his back, his breathing still not quite evened out, and flashed Conan a deeply satisfied grin.

It took a few more minutes before either of them were in the mood to move around much. Heiji slipped off the condom and discarded it. Conan let his eyes and fingertips trail familiarly over Heiji’s body, all the way up to the arm still stuck over his head. At some point during their encounter he had managed to crack the wooden slat he was handcuffed to. His wrist and the heel of his hand were raw from the metal biting into them as he struggled.

The damage had to be from while he was trying to get his hands on Conan, or even in the middle of sex. Conan would have noticed it earlier. For some reason that little hint of desperate strength put a little hint of heat back in the pit of Conan’s stomach. His body might not be quite ready for round two yet, but he was going to want it soon enough.

“Gonna keep me here?” Heiji asked, noticing where his attention had strayed to. “Not that I’m sure I’d mind.”

Conan dragged himself out of bed to get the key out of Heiji’s jacket. He was tempted to keep Heiji in bed, but after feeling Heiji’s eyes on his body when he stood up and stretched he doubted the other detective would be in any hurry to disappear.

He unlocked the cuffs and let Heiji rub his abused wrist. They shared a look, both of them silently sizing up the situation. It almost felt like being on an investigation together, just a glance and they both knew the other was on the same page without having to trade a word. Conan had expected things to be far more awkward, and couldn’t help being relieved.

“I should get the first aid kit for that,” Conan suggested, to start. He should put some bruise ointment on Heiji’s wrist at the very least. And a drink, his throat was so dry. And now that Heiji wasn’t driving him to distraction he felt sore and slippery inside, not to mention the places where his semen had splashed when he came and was making little itchy patches on his stomach as it dried.

“Sure. We’re gonna have to go out at some point, too.” Heiji searched around in the tangled sheets until he found the condom wrapper to throw it away. “I think we’re gonna need a lot more of _these_ ,” he said, “and I’m hungry.” He tossed a playful grin Conan’s way. “Now I think about it, maybe I should’ve bought ya dinner first.”

Before Conan could even try to get started, Heiji’s arms were winding around him, pulling him back onto the bed and into a waiting lap.

“I think this comes first.”

Heiji was always such a tactile person, so free with touches even when it had made Conan swipe at him in irritation, it wasn’t a surprise he would want to keep cuddling after the fact. Conan was far too blissed out to mind. Anything that let him relax back into pleasant post-orgasm laziness was fine right now.

Whatever happened next, for now everything felt right. Heiji lost no time in trying to seduce him into coming to Osaka on his next break with offers of food, with tender touches here and there filling in what wasn’t being said.

For a little while, at least, age and body, ‘Shinichi’ or ‘Conan,’ none of it mattered. Being with Heiji made him feel like he was who he was, and he wouldn’t ever allow any stupid misconception to stand in the way of that. If Heiji ever got the wrong idea again, now he knew just how much he could enjoy correcting that.


End file.
